Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 129, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 May 1913 — Page 2

MOLLY McDONALD A TALE OF THE FRONTIER

SYNOPSIS. Major McDonald, commanding an army post near Fort Dodge, seeks a man to Intercept his daughter, Molly, who is headed for the post. An Indian outbreak Is threatened. Sergeant "Brick” Hamlin * meets the stage in which Molly is travel- , ing. They are attacked by Indians, and Hamlin and Molly escape in the darkness. Hamlin tells Molly he was discharged from the Confederate service in disgrace and at the close of the war enlisted in the regular army. He suspects one Captain "LeFevre of being responsible for his disgrace. Troops appear and under escort of Lieut. Gaskins Molly starts to join her father. Hamlin leaves to rejoin his regiment. He returns to Fort Dodge after a summer of fighting Indians, and finds Molly there. Shots are heard in the night. Hamlin rushes out, sees what he believes is the figure of Molly hiding in the darkness and falls over the body of Lieutenant Gaskins, who accuses Hamlin ,of shooting him. The sergeant is proven innocent He sees Molly in company with Mrs. Dupont, whom he recognize? as a former sweetheart, who threw , him over for LeFevre. Mrs. Dupont tells Hamlin LeFevre forced her to send him a lying note. Hamlin declares he has been looking for LeFevre to force him to clear his record. Later he overhears Dupont and a soldier hatching up a money-making plot Molly seeks an interview with Hamlin. She says her father seems to be in the power of Mrs. Dupont, who claims to be a daughter of McDonald's sister. Molly disappears and Hamlin sets out to trace her. McDonald is ordered to Fort Ripley. Hamlin discovers that the man ' who left on the stage under the name of McDonald was not the major. He finds McDonald’s murdered body. Hamlin takes Wasson,' a guide, and two troopers and goes in pursuit of the murderers, who had robbed McDonald of $30,000 paymaster’s money. He suspects Dupont. Conners, soldier accomplice of Dupont, is found murdered. Hamlin’s“party is caught in a fierce blizzard while heading for the Clmmaron. One man dies from cold and another almost succumbs. Wasson is" shot as they come in sight of the Cimmaron. Heroic work Hamlin resuscitates Carroll, his remaining trooper. CHAPTER XXVl.—Continued. He came to the little patch of forest growth, a dozen gaunt, naked trees at the river’s edge, stunted, two of them already toppling over the bank, apparently undermined by the water, threatening to fall before each blast that smote them. Hoping to discover some splinters for a fire, Hamlin kicked a clear space in the snow, yet kept his face always toward the bluff, his eyes vigilantly searching for any skulking figure. Silent as those desert surroundings appeared, the sergeant knew he was not alone. He had a feeling that he was being watched, spied upon; that somewhere near at hand, crouching in that solitude, the eyes of murder followed his every movement. Suddenly he straightened up, staring at the bluff nearly opposite where he stood. Was it a dream, an illusion, or was that actually the front of a cabin at the base of the bank? He could not believe it possible, nor could he be sure. If so, then It consisted merely of a room excavated in the side of the hill, the opening closed in by cottonwood logs. It in no way extended outward beyond the contour of the bank, and was so plastered with snow as to be almost indistinguishable a dozen steps away. Yet those were logs, regularly, laid, beyond a doubt; he was certain he detected now the dim outlines—of a door, and a smooth wooden shutter, to which the snow refused to cling, the size and shape of a small window. His heart throbbing with excitement, the Sergeant slipped in against the bluff for protection, moving cautiously closer until he convinced himself of* the reality of his strange discovery by feeling the rough bark of the logs. It was a form of habitation of some kind beyond question; apparently unoccupied, for there were no tracks in the snow without, and no smoke of a fire visible anywhere.

CHAPTER XXVII. Hughes’ Story. Hamlin thrust his glove into his belt, drew forth his revolver, and gripped Its stock with bare hand. This odd, hidden dwelling might be deserted, a mere empty shack, but he could not disconnect it in his mind from that murderous attack made upon their little party two hours before. Why was it here in the heart of this desert? Why built with such evident intent of concealment? But for what had occurred on the plateau above, his suspicions would never have been aroused. This was already becoming a cattle country; adventurous Texans, seeking free range and ahpndant water, had advanced along all these prominent streams with their grazing herds of long-horns. Little by little they had gained precarious foothold on the Indian domains, slowly forcing the savages westward. The struggle had been continuous for years, and the final result inevitable. Yet this year the story had been a different one, for the united tribes had

HERE'S NEW TYPE OF DESERT

Those Who Have Seen the Real Thing Would Be Surprised at Pictorial Representation. Those who have lived In Egypt will And a source of unending surprise in the scenic offerings of "high class vaudeville" which accompany the throaty howling by a near barytone of "I Shall Love Tew Till the Hot Desert Freezes Eternally," illustrated with pictures from the East (side). It

By ' RANDALL PARRISH

Juthorof "Keith of the “Border” My Lady of DoubfTMy Lady of Sc South*’ etc. etc. . Jlludrafiontf hs V.LBaracA ■COWWOHT |SJ2 BY A.C.rWCLURO & CQI

swept the invading stockmen back, had butchered their cattle, and once again roamed these plains as masters. Hamlin knew this; he had met and talked with those driven out, and he was aware that even now Black Kettle’s winter camp of hostiles was not far away. This hut might, of course, be the deserted site of gome old cow camp, some outrider’s shack, but —the fellow who fired on them! He was a reality—a dangerous reality—and he was hiding some’where close at hand. The sergeant stole along the front to the door, listening intently for any warning sound from either without or within. Every nerve was on edge; all else forgotten except the intensity of the moment. He could perceive nothing to alarm him, no evidence of any presence inside. Slowly, noiselessly, his Colt poised for Instant action, he lifted the wooden latch, and permitted the door to swing slightly ajar, yielding a glimpse within. There was light from above, flittering dimly through some crevice in the bluff, and the darker shadows were reddened by the cheery glow of a fire place directly opposite, although where the smoke disappeared was not at first evident. Hamlin perceived these features at a glance, standing motionless. His quick eyes visioned the whole interior —a rude table and bench, a rifle leaning in one corner, a saddle and trappings hanging against the wall; a broad-brimmed hat on the floor, a pile of skins beyond. There was an appearance of neatness also, the floor swept, the table unlittered. Yet he scarcely realized these details at the time so closely was his whole attention centered on the figure of a man. The fellow occupied a stool before )he fireplace, and was bending slightly forward, staring down at the red embers, unconscious of „the intruder. He was a thin-chested, unkempt individual with long hair, and shaggy whiskers, both iron gray. The side of his face and neck had a sallow look, while his nose was prominent. The sergeant surveyed him a moment, his cocked revolver covering the motionless figure, his lips set grimly. Then he stepped within and closed the door. At the slight sound the other leaped to his feet, overturning the stool, and whirled about swiftly, his right hand dropping to his belt. “That will do, friend!” Hamlin’s voice rang stern. “Stand as you are—your gun is lying on the bench yonder. Rather careless of you in this country. No, I wouldn’t risk it if I was you; this is a hair trigger.” The fellow stared helpless Into the Sergeant's gray eyes. “Who—who the hell are you?”- he

Slowly, Noiselessly, His Colt Poised for Instant Action. managed to articulate hoarsely, "a — a soldier?” Hamlin nodded, willing enough to let the other talk. “You’re —you’re not one o’ LeFevre’s outfit?’’ “Whose?” “Gene Le Fevre—the damn skunk; you know him?” Startled as he was, the sergeant held himself firm, and laughed. “I reckon there isn’t any one by that name a friend o’ mine,” he said ccclly. “So you’re free to relieve your feelings as far as I’m concerned. Were you expecting that, gent along this trail?" “Yes, I was, an’ ’twa’n’t no pleasant little reception I ’lowed to give him neither. Say! Wouldn’t yer just

should be noted here that it is hardly fair to call a locality a "desert” at all, when it is so plentifully peopled with the cosmopol/tan races presented to the public on the screen. The pictures show a wild profusion of Bedouins, Chinese, Arabs, Moors, Greeks, Armenians, Bulgarians and Turks, with a fair sprinkling of Roman senators, in every conceivable garb, ancient and modern, lounging comfortably around the pyramids and smoking Havana cigars, English pipes, hookahs and cigarettes and mostly

as soon lower thet shootin’ Iron? We ain’t got na call to quarrel so fur as I kin see.” “Maybe not, stranger," and Hamlin leaned back against the table, lowering his weapon slightly, as he glanced watchfully about the room, “but I’ll keep the gun handy just the same until we understand each other. Anybody else in this neighborhood?” “Not unless it’s Le Fevre, an’ his outfit.” “Then I reckon you did the shooting out there a bit ago?” The man shuffled uneasily, but the sergeant's right hand came to a level. “Did you?” “I s’pose thar ain’t no use o’ denyin’ it,” reluctantly, eyeing the gun in the corner, “but I didn’t mean to shoot up no outfit but Le Fevre’s. So help me, I didn’t! The danged snow was so thick I couldn’t see nohow, but I never s’posed any one was on the trail 'cept him. Thar ain’t been no white man 'long yere in three months. Didn’t hit none of yer, did I?” “Yes, you did,” returned Hamlin slowly, striving to hold himself in check. “You killed one of the best fellows that ever rode these plains, you sneaking coward, you. Shot him dead, with his back to you. Now, see here, it’s a throw of the dice with me whether I fill you full of lead, or let you go. I came in here intending to kill you. If you were the cur who shot us up. put I’m willing to listen to what you have got to say. I’m some on the fight, but plain murder don’t appeal to me. How is it? Are you ready to talk? Spit it out, man!” “I’ll tell yer jest how it was.” “Do It my way then; answer straight what I ask you. Who are you? What are you doing here?” “Kin I sit down?” “Yes; make it short now; all I want is facts.” “Wal, my name is Hughes—Jed Hughes; I uster hang out around San Antone, an’ hdv been mostly in the cow business. The last five years Le Fevre an’ I hev been grazin’ cattle in between yere an’ Buffalo Creek.” “Partners?” “Wal, by God! I thought so, till just lately,” his voice rising. “Anyhow, I hed a bunch o’ money in on the deal, though I’ll be darned if I know just what’s become o’ it. Yer see, stranger, Gene hed the inside o’ this Injun business, bein’ as he’s sorter a squaw man —” “What!” Interrupted the other sharply. “Do you mean he married into one of the tribes?” “Sorter left-handed —yep; a Cheyenne woman. Little thing like that didn’t faze Gene none, if he did have a white wife —a blamed good-looker she was too. She was out here onc’t, three years ago, ’bout a week maybe. Course she didn’t know nothin’ ’bout the squaw, an’ the Injuns was all huntin’ down in the Wichitas. But as I was sayin’, Gene caught on to this yere Injun war last spring—I reckon ol’ Koleta, his Injun father-in-law, likely told him what wus brewin’ —he’s sorter a war-chief. Anyhow he knew thet hell was to pay, an’ so we natch’ally gathered up our long-horns an’ drove ’em east whar they wouldn’t be raided. We didn’t git all the criters rounded up, as we wus in a hurry, an’ they wus scattered some ’cause of a hard winter, So I come back yere to round up the rest o’ ther bunch.” “And brand a few outsiders.” He grinned. “Maybe I wasn’t over-particular, but anyhow I got a thousand head together by the last o’ June, an’ hit the trail with ’em. Then hell sure broke loose. ’Fore we’d got that bunch o’ cattle twenty mile down the Cimarron we wus rounded up by a gang o’ Cheyenne Injuns, headed by that ornery Koleta, and every horn of ’em drove off. Thar wa'n’t no fight; the damn bucks just laughed at us, an’ left us sittin’ thar out on the prairie. They hogged hosses an’ all.” He wiped his face, and spat into the fire, while Hamlin sat silent; gun in hand. “I reckon now as how Le Fevre put ol’ Koleta wise to that game, but I was plum innocent then,” he went on regretfully.'* “Wall, we, —thar wus four o’ us, —hoofed it east till we struck some ranchers on Cow Crick, and got the loan o’ some ponies. Then I struck out to locate the main herd. It didn’t take me long, stranger, to discover thar wa’n’t no herd to locate. But I struck their trail, whar Le Fevre had driven ’em up into Missouri and cashed in fer a pot o’ money. Then the damn cuss just natch’ally vanished. I plugged ’bout fer two er three months hopin’ ter ketch up with him, but I never did. I heerd tell o’ him onc’t or twice, an’ caught on he was travelin’ under ’nuther name—some durn French contraction —but thet’s as much as I ever did find out. Finally, up in Independence I wus so durn near broke I reckoned I’d better put what I hed left in a grub stake, an’ drift back yere. I figgered thet maybe I could pick up some o’ those Injun cattle again, and maybe some mavericks, an’ so start ’nuther herd. Anyhow I could lie low fer a while, believin’ Le Fevre was sure ter come back soon as he thought the coast wus clear. I knew then he an’ Koleta was in cahoots an’ he’d be headin’ this

chewing gum. But If in his choice of population the scenic artist has done well in Egyptian scenery he has certalnly surpassed himself, for you behold great clusters of pyramids, sphinxes by the dozen, camels, horses, sheep, deer, ostriches and even _ elephants crossing the soft sand of the alleged desert or resting beneath the English oaks, Lombardy poplars, cactus and palm trees. And before you can get your breath a gallant knight in the uniform of the Austrian hussars, covered with a kl-

way after the stock. So I come down yere quiet, an’ laid fer * him to show up.” VWhat then?” “Nuthin’ much, till yisterday. I got tergether some cS»ya, herded down river a ways, out o’ sight in the bluffs, but hev Bed ter keep mighty quiet ter save my hair. Them Cheyennes are sure pisen this year, an’ raisin* Cain. I never see ’em so rambunctious afore. But I hung on yere, hidin’ out, cause I didn’t hev nowhar else tef go. An’ yisterday, just ahead o’ the blizzard, a Kiowa buck drifted in yere. Slipped down the bluff, an’ caught me ’fore ever I saw him. Never laid eyes on the red afore but he was friendly ’nough, natch’ally mistakin’ me fer one o’ Le Fevije’s herders. His name was Black Smoke, an’ he couldn’t talk no English'worth mentionin’, but we made out to understan’ each other in Mex. He wus too darn hungry and tired to talk much anyhow. But I got what I wanted to know out o’ him.” “Well, go on, Hughes, you are making a long story out of it.” “The rest is short 'nough. It seems he an’ ol’ Koleta, an’ a young Cheyenne buck, had been hangin’ ’round across the river from Dodge fer quite a while waitin’ fer Le Fevre to pull off Borne sorter stunt. Maybe I didn’t get just the straight o’ it,a but anyhow they held up a paymaster, er something like that, fer a big boodle. They expected to do it quiet like, hold the off’cer a day er so out in the desert, an’ then turn him loose to howl. But them plans didn't just exactly work.

“Yes, Make it Short Now; All I want Is Facts."

The fellow’s daughter was with him, when the pinch was made, an’ they hed to take her ’ldng too. Then the officer man got ugly, an’ had to be shot., an’ Le Fevre quarrelled with the other white man in the outfit, an’ killed him. That left the gal on their hands, an’ them all in a hell of a fix if they wus ever caught. The young Injuns wanted to kill the gal too, an’ shet her mouth, but somehow Le Fevre an’ Koleta wouldn’t hear to it—said she’d be worth mope alive than dead, an’ that they could hide her whar she’d never be* heard of ag’in unless her friends put up money to buy her back.” Hamlin was leaning forward, watching the speaker intently, and it seemed to him his heart had stopped beating. This story had the semblance ot truth; it was the truth. So Dupont and - Le Fevre were one and the same. He could believe this now, could perceive the resemblance, although the man had grown older, taken on flesh, and disguised himself wonderfully by growing that black beard. Yet, at the moment, he scarcely considered the man at all; his whole..lnterest, concentrated on the fate of the unfortunate girl. “Where were they taking her, Hughes—do you know?” “Wa’n’t but one place fer ’em to take her—the Cheyennes hev got winter camp down yonder on the Canadian—Black Kettle’s outfit. Onc’t thar, all hell couldn't pry her loose.” “And Le Fevre dared go there?’ Among those hostiles?” “Him!” Hughes laughed scornfully. “Why, he’s hand in glove with the whole bunch. He’s raided with ’em, decked out in feathers an’ war-paint.” The sergeant thought rapidly and leaped to a sudden conclusion. “And you were trying to kill him when you shot us up?” “Thet wus the idea, stranger; if I got a friend o’ yourn, I’m powerful sorry.” (TO BE CONTINUED.)

Sporting Element.

Willie liked ice cream, but he drew the line at turning the freezer. One day when his mother returned home she was agreeably surprised to find him working at the crank as if his life depended on it. “I don’t see how you got him to turn the Ice cream freezer,” she said to her husband. “I offered him a penny to do it.” » "You don’t go about it the right way, my dear,” replied her husband. "I bet him a nickel he couldn’t turn it for half an hour.”

mono and a scimitar stuck in his belt, brings his sultana into the moonlight and hugs her until the everlasting desert is removed and the applause of the audience freezes over.—New York Herald.

Reminiscent.

Reporter—l suppose your success has been achieved only after a hard straggle. Actor—Yes, there ■was a time when my name appeared oftener on a board bill than on a bill board.—Judge.

TRIALS of TRAVEL in PERSIA

/ ALLAH pleases, tomorO• I row,” says the average Persian as he considers the transaction of business or' the taking of a Journey. And* before the westerner has been long in this country he drops his shibboleth that “time is money," and falls into the fatalistic philosophy of the east, where the language has no equivalent for our Words, punctuality and promptitude, writes a Teheran correspondent of the Los Angeles Times. Truly, Persia is no place for the hustler, accustomed to “do” a country or a kingdom by express railroad routes and automobile transit, and who expects to get Ritz or WaldorfAstoria wherever he stops. Only when the powers take hold of Persia and run the country will travel become easy and pleasant for the ordinary globetrotter. For the present it is open only to the venturesome and leisurely, for there are scarcely any railroads in the length and breadth of the land, and transit over any distance is both perilous and arduous, though full of interest to the strong and seasoned traveler. In Persia it is no simple undertaking to prepare for a caravan journey of 160 miles or so, as your arangements must allow for at least eight days on the road—in many places merely a rough, stony track through mountain gorges. A string of six or eight mules is required, and you have to be smart at a bargain when you haggle with the owner of the" hearts, though as a matter of fact, the muleteer generally gets his price. The contract must then be written out, and the muleteer affixes his seal to it, for few of them can either read or write. But you are not through with the deal until you have paid over half or even three-quarters of the stipulated “ticket journey.” The next business is the engagement of a smart boy for the rpad and a cook to prepare the nfeals, and upon their character the entire comfort of your caravan journey depends. Expert Servants. Persian servants could give points to the most expert swell mobsman going. They always make the very best use of opportunities for plunder when the provisions for the trip are bought. Gradually, however, the large saddlebags begin to swell out with packets of tea, loaves of sugar, tips of provisions, rice, meat, bread, candles, coals and other necessaries. You have also to provide a new samovar, plates, knives, forks, spoons, together with a teapot and teacups. While the servants are busy with the dealer jthe sahib chooses a saddle and some camp furniture not forgetting a traveling carpet. Fortunately, for eight months of the year In Persia the sun shines continually out of a fine blue sky, so journeys are generally taken under ideal conditions. Rain adds the last note of desolation to the mostly barren land, making the miserable villages full of hungry, begging people, and the gloomy, fort-like caravansaries, gray, nightmare visions of hopelessness. The chief outstanding feature of a long tour in Persia is the massive caravansaries, the poorest apologies for hotels the world contains. They are built by charitable people who desire to do a good turn to the travelers on the lonely roads and mule tracks, which ate infested by marauding bands of highwaymen. As a rule they are built square, with rooms around the sides, opening on to the Interior courtyard. In bad weather the mules are put into roomy Btables behind, though generally the animals are tethered in the spacious oourtyard, with their loads disposed around them and the bells on their harness tinkling continually. On first alighting at one of these rest-houßeß for the night, when the servant Indicates your apartment you are apt to be badly jarred by its appearance. The opening into the black, smoke-begrimed room is doorleßs. The mud floor is dirty and uneven, the corners filled with all kinds of rubbish, such _ps egg-shells, fruit skins and the like. But if the boy Is a good one he soon makes his master comfortable. A fire is lighted, the room swept and the meager equipment set out A curtain nailed over the enrance baffles the gaze of inquisitive onlookers, and when in the flickering

candlelight the steaming samovar sings, -and the dinner of several courses begins to appear, past troubles are forgotten until a new day dawns. The dinner, by the bye, is prepared by the cook tn a draughty corner on three cage-like crates ,one on each side of the pack-saddle. Big Caravans. Often during the long hours of the daily march are heard the low-sound-ing bells, telling of an approaching caravan. Surrounded by huge bales of cotton, cases of opium and bundles of carpets come a troop of Persians on pilgrimage to Mecca or Kubella, who for safety’s sake generally travel with a * large, well-guarded caravan. Their well-filled saddle-bags contain everything necessary foj their six to eight-months journey. So accustomed do the Persians become to the pace of their mules; they can doze comfortably. on their backs through the hot hours of the afternoon without running the slightest risk of misadventure, but the westerner has to keep wide awake to preserve his equilibrium. The most useful vehicles for long journeys in Persia are the palakis and kajavahs, the quaintest contrivances for travel to be seen anywhere. These “Persian cabs” are fixed upon mules. Some skill, too, is required in loading up the mule with its human freight, care being taken that the two people who travel side- by side are 'about the same weight If a tiny husband and a fat wife have to go togeth-... er, his box must be filled up with ballast so as to equalize the weight. Similar care has to be exercised in dismounting, for if one passenger jumps out without giving warning of his intention, his neighbor is shot to the ground with unseemly haste. The onjy difference between the kajavah and the palaki is that the latter is open; while the former is covered with a light ,water-proof roof and is curtained against bad weather. The most comfortable means of travel, sacred to the use -of the wealthiest class, is the takhtiravan, a kind of palanquin, consisting of a box about seven feet long and five feet high, fitted with doors and windows and furnished inside with a soft mattress and luxurious cushions. The vehicle is built on the Sedan-chair principle, the poles* resting on a sort of saddle on the backs of the mules, which are harnessed tandem'.

By the Mile.

A young married woman athletically inclined was very anxious to learn to swim. So she bought a bathing suit, joined the swimming class at a nearby Turkish bath, and plunged in. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for an hour in the afternoon she tolled laboriously from one end to the other of the ninety-foot pool. On returning home after each lesson she carefully computed the~ distance she traveled and jotted it down in her housekeeper’s memorandum book. One night, with the help of her husband, she started in to balance her housekeeping accounts. “Shall I put swimming under pleasures or necessities?” “Bhe asked, undecidedly. The-husband glanced at the figures Indicating the number of nautical miles his wife had covered. “Why not put it down under traveling expenses?" he suggested.

Successive Generations.

Mlbs Anne Morgan, daughter of the great financier, gives most of her time to social work. ' John D. Rockefeller, Jr., is one ot the leaders in the movement againßt “white slavery.” Tha daughter of Senator Mark Hanna, Mrs. Medill McCormick, is an active advocate of working women’s organization. Such interests of many of “the second generation of wealth” are a better dependence for the future than the earlier hope that the second and succeeding generations would fdfiander what the fathers and grandfathers accumulated. . Spendthrifts do not materially affect the general welfare. Persons with social instincts and a sense of responsibility do.

Between Doctors.

“Doctor, do you :thlnk we had better call In a consulting physician?” "My worthy colleague, why should we?” | “He’s a very rich man.” “Exactly. Then why share the estate?” '